The staircase seems suddenly distant, unreachable, even if it’s just a few feet away. A few of McAllister’sguestsappear from the library, from behind the massive fireplace, from a corridor Ihadn't noticed before. They move forward, almost synchronized, forming a loose semicircle that tightens with each step we take.
We both turn to look around us, and I can feel Ares moving behind me, coming to position himself in front of me.
Before he gets a chance to do that, I hear a groan—his.
I turn again to see Benedict and one of the security men pulling a chain that shimmers in iridescence around Ares’ chest, binding him to the massive marble pillar beside the grand staircase—one of the two main columns that bear the weight of the entire mansion above us.
Ares’ jaw twitches, eyes flaring black as he looks at me.
Then he smiles as if he’s mad, yet it’s something different. It’s both of us knowing that every single bastard in this room will die here tonight.
twenty-eight
-Ares-
The chains bite into my chest, coiling around me and keeping me to the marble pillar. I look at all of them. McAllister, his five friends, and a few other men who look more like mercenaries than standard security guards.I was expecting them to make a move, set a trap, but not so soon. I’d hoped I’d have the chance to get Brynn out first.
“You have no idea what you just did,” I roar, staring at McAllister, who’s just living his last moments.
He steps forward from the semicircle, walking until he’s right in front of me. Right where I can’t reach him and break him. He traces a finger along the chains, his lips curving into a smile that holds nothing good. “Oh, I know very well what I just did.”
I strain against the bonds. Steel doors have yielded to my strength like pieces of cloth, but somehow these chains only draw me tighter. I try again, but I don’t let my effort show.
Still, these chains aren’t budging, the more I pull the more they tighten. These aren’t normal chains as I first thought; no normal chain would hold me.
At my side, Brynn moves, her hand drifting to the hilt at her waist. My eyes narrow, a silent command for her to stop, but she ignores me, and her blade is aimed at the nearest guard’s throat. Before she can reach him, another guard catches her wrist. She fights them, and I hear the snap of bones, one of the men screaming in pain. There are too many of them, and before she gets a chance to do anything, she’s under their control.
I strain against my shackles, but the metal is merciless.
“Quite the fighter,” McAllister says as two more guards drag Brynn closer. Her eyes are blazing with defiance, and the air is thick with her fury, the same as mine.
I move, and the chains cut into my skin, my shirt soaking with my own blood as I pull so hard my palms threaten to tear open.
Why the fuck aren’t they breaking?
They should twist and splinter under my strength, but they do nothing but mark me.
“What’s happening?” Brynn hisses, worry in her voice, reflecting the one in my mind. Only I’m not worried about myself.
McAllister smiles, another smirk raising on his fucking lips. “When you’re a skillful hunter, evengodscan fall.”
The wordgodslingers in my ears. It’s not a metaphor. This bastard knows exactly what I am.
I glance at the chains, their color like a rainbow on metal, iridescent, almost unnatural, while every ring of the chain is engraved with ancient inscriptions I don’t recognize. My jaw tightens as pure rage burns through me. I know what this means. One of my brothers was shot with a bullet made from this very metal. The only element on earth our bodies yield to.
“Kharon is impressive,” McAllister purrs, like he’s about to start one of his stories again, only this time I need to hear it. “So impressive, once a year isn’t enough. To be honest, I don’t like confined spaces. I like to hunt in the wild more.”
The wild… Elias died in the forest. My mind makes the connection before he gets to say it. Brynn’s gasp echoes in my ears as McAllister continues. She knows it. The bastard is organizing a game parallel to Kharon, stealing the players I selected. That’s where Elias died.
“The game I orchestrate is much simpler. Six contestants and six hunters,”McAllister continues, and heat coils in my chest, my muscles shift beneath my shirt, and I pull on the pillar, but it does nothing except for marble dust to come down from the ceiling.
The damn thing still stands, and somehow, I’m too weak to make another move. I feel the blood from where the chains dig into my flesh, coating my skin and soaking through my clothes, the feel of it igniting my fury even further. “You’ve recreated Kharon,” I say, my voice more of a roar, “without understanding its purpose.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly,” McAllister replies. “Control, power, the thrill of playing god. Something noble. Something few people have access to.”
My vision narrows, fueled by the promise of revenge as I see Brynn struggle in the guard’s grip. Her defiance sparks flames inside of me, and I can feel veins standing out along my neck, my eyes turning dark, but the power is just not there. Somehow, it’s not enough to break the chains.
McAllister shifts his gaze to Brynn. “Tonight’s entertainment will be your little warrior. While you, God of War,” he turns back to me, “will have the privilege of watching to see if she survives or if I bring her dead body to your feet.”
